


Sun Glasses.

by Jackeline Harkness (Jackeline_Harkness)



Series: Survival [10]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, M/M, Tony has unique ways to get what he wants, Vacation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-02
Updated: 2016-07-02
Packaged: 2018-07-19 14:15:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7364725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jackeline_Harkness/pseuds/Jackeline%20Harkness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brock Rumlow is not an Avenger. He isn't part of the team. <br/>He is not.</p><p>Still, sometimes he just can't get out of joining the team for certain activities.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sun Glasses.

 

 

 

**Sun glasses.**

Unlike what a lot of people believed, money couldn’t buy everything. There was that, and if Tony Stark was getting something done, he’d do it the right way or not at all, which meant he had to have his claws well into the project at hand, and with the way he’d been busy conditioning the tower as he wanted it, and then refurbishing the mansion he’d grown up in as the new headquarters for the Avengers, he had very little free time. Which meant that rebuilding the Malibu mansion took much longer than anyone would have expected.

Brock had wanted to decline, because it was one thing to live in the luxurious free apartment at the tower when James already lived there or support the team when James was part of the mission, and yet another one to go to fucking Malibu, because that was a team vacation no matter how anyone looked at it. That Thor was bringing his girlfriend didn’t help one bit, because while it meant that plus-ones were welcome, it also meant that Bruce was busy talking to the unassuming-looking girl who was actually some brilliant scientist, and therefore not available to act as a buffer for the whole situation.

The private beach felt excessive, like many of Stark’s eccentricities… like housing the entire team in one of the most technologically advanced buildings on Earth. But then, Brock had seen the team actually relax and all but revert to a bunch of teenagers as they played on the beach and, just like the housing the whole team thing, he’d felt grateful for it, even if he wasn’t going to say it.

He knew for a fact that James and Rogers had been best friends for all their lives, he’d seen them hang out and fight together like two halves of a single thing. Watching them play on the beach with the enthusiasm of two overgrown puppies was not something he’d expected, though, and suddenly, he felt a lot like an intruder.

“If it’s jealousy making you frown like that, I have to tell you that there’s nothing for you to worry about,” Brock turned to find Stark standing nearby, the bastard sipping on a cocktail so colorful that the damn Rio carnival would’ve been proud. “At least not where those two are concerned, they’re really no more than friends.”

“I don’t worry,” he said, because like hell was he going to admit his insecurities in front of fucking Stark, of all people.

The fucker snorted and laughed in his face.

“Yeah, no. Anyone would wonder why Bucky would choose _you_ over Steve… or anyone else when he looks like that,” he gestured towards the two super-soldiers with his cocktail.

“Like you’re a match for Captain America,” Brock said before he could think about it.

Stark grinned at him. “I’d remind you that I’ve been consistently included on most-desirable, sexiest men on Earth top ten lists since before I was even legally an adult… but you probably know that already. I mean, the media is damn hard to ignore, sometimes.”

“How does a man like Rogers get involved with the likes of you?”

“Well-handled sexual tension, at first,” and then the son of a bitch just sucked at the straw stuck in his cocktail and looked at him, brows slightly arched, as if telling him it was his turn.

Brock stared at the billionaire, doing his damnedest not to fucking gape at the guy.

“I won’t even ask how you got involved with Barnes. It’s Hydra we’re talking about, it probably involved dark, painful things… and gore… lots of gore,” he said, sending a shiver down Brock’s back because he honestly didn’t know if the guy was just shooting in the dark or not. Brock’s eyes landed on Stark’s chest, where the Captain America wife-beater didn’t hide all the scars. “Anyway, what I meant to say is that while your self-worth issues might not be totally unfounded, there’s nothing for you to worry about where it comes to Steve.”

“You have a strange way to reassure people.”

Stark took his time taking another sip of his drink.

“I was just making conversation.”

Brock gave him a look. Because that sure as hell was a strange way to strike conversation with someone who could kill him with his bare hands before he could even call for Rogers. The man was either stupidly overconfident, or knew something he did not. His bets would be on the latter, though. Damn the smug bastard.

“Why are you here and not out there?” the mad inventor nodded towards the sand and water beyond the shade of the gazebo.

“Why are _you_ not there?”

“Me? I’m having a drink,” the smile was one Brock was sure he’d seen printed on magazines before.

“I’m taking a break,” Brock said, and it wasn’t even entirely a lie.

“That, or maybe the sun’s being a bit much on the scar tissue?” and the son of a bitch didn’t even bother pointing at the scars on his arms or shoulders that weren’t covered by his own sleeveless shirt, no. The asshole had to point directly at the ones on his face. And then he slurped his drink in the most annoying way possible.

Brock was sure his face had somehow managed a gesture that perfectly mixed gaping and glaring into one. He could admit that he did look at the water to his far left, calculating how long it’d take for Rogers to get there and murder him if he did decide to take a swing at the almost-always-right, obnoxious shit he had for a boyfriend.

“Tony!” and that was Bruce and Thor’s scientific hottie of a girlfriend walking towards them… which meant his chances of keeping up with any conversation had suddenly dropped to very, very low levels.

“Going for a swim,” he grumbled, and turned towards the water.

“Leave the man alone,” he heard Bruce’s voice say.

“I just wanted to get laid.”

“What?” Bruce asked, and Brock was sure he’d been unable to stop himself from asking.

“Oh, you know. Getting him back there, which will make Barnes happy, which will make Steve happy and more willing to…”

Brock didn’t turn to look at them, and instead walked onto the beach with a stride as dignified as was possible on the loose, white sand.

The sun _was_ a bitch on his scarred skin, but James was obviously happy to have him back in the waves and had way too much fun forcing him to join in the silly games.

So damn worth it.

 

***

“Hey, Brock.”

“Mh?” he let out, not interrupting his swig of the beer as he sat there in Bruce’s lab, preparing to surf the internet on his tablet while the doctor did some actual work.

“Here.”

He lifted his eyes from the fancy thing Stark had indignantly given him after confiscating his no-brand tablet, and found himself face to face with a pair of sunglasses Bruce was holding out. He took them.

“What are these?” and he didn’t put them on. A long career around things that were not what they seemed had made him cautious like that. Barton called him paranoid sometimes… and he wasn’t about to correct him when he wasn’t entirely wrong.

“Sunglasses,” Bruce had a very dry, unique sense of humor. Brock could appreciate it.

“Uh huh.”

Bruce smiled his lopsided smile. “Tony made them,” he started.

“So they’re not just sunglasses.”

“Of course not. You turn them on, you have direct communication with Jarvis, and even some visual tools.”

“Like Google glasses,” he commented as he put them on, knowing full well what Bruce’s answer would be.

“Don’t let Tony hear you say that,” he chuckled.

“Hello, agent Rumlow,” Jarvis’ voice greeted.

“Hey,” he answered.

“It will let you communicate with anyone with Jarvis’ help. It uses bone vibration to transmit sound, so anything that comes through the device won’t be heard by anyone but you,” he smiled as he saw Brock’s eyes flick from one point to another in a way that indicated he’d found the tools he’d mentioned before. “The glass will adjust to compensate for any variations of lighting, even if everything else is off.”

“That sounds handy,” he commented, taking the glasses off and rotating them this way and that to study them. They looked like a regular, if casually fancy, pair of sunglasses.

“It should be.”

“Am I going to be a test subject for more than injectable explosives, then?”

“The glass is a special compound, too. They’re waterproof and the glass is bulletproof… and it’s a better UV filter than anything you can find in the market… which is also the best protection on Earth for sensitive skin.”

He gave Bruce a questioning look. The doctor just smiled.

“Tony is the master of never saying the words, but he has his own ways to apologize for things, you know?”

Brock put the glasses back on.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I promise this is leading somewhere with more plot! >.


End file.
